


Aurora Bestiaris

by sillyjelly



Category: The Witcher (TV), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types, Wiedźmin | The Witcher Series - Andrzej Sapkowski
Genre: About canom compliance, Bickering, Canon Compliant, Geralt finaly gets to do some witchery things, How Do I Tag, It's true but only so far, Mostly monsters, graphic description of violence, mostly - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-20
Updated: 2020-08-02
Packaged: 2021-03-04 17:42:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 13,739
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25400323
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillyjelly/pseuds/sillyjelly
Summary: Adventures of Geralt and Jaskier through all those years they traveled together as a witcher and his barker until they couldn't.
Kudos: 5





	1. Wyvern

**Author's Note:**

> Hello and thanks for giving this fic a try! It's the first one I ever wrote and... Uhm, yeah.
> 
> Anyway, back to what I wanted to say. This work is a mix of tv serie characterisations, book canon, game monsters, tumblr prompts, my own weird fanons and headcanons, real world mythologies, and my OC's inserted here and there to fill the vacuum. Because Geralt needs some friends, preferably the sort who aren't scared of his death stare.
> 
> So far, I have no idea how many chapters I will write or how often I will update this fic. As I said, it's my first work so ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯
> 
> Special thanks to my tumblr friends and beta readers @morby and @xserpx . I promise that once I figure out how to make hyperlink, I will tag their names correctly.

Geralt reached the town just as the wind started to rise. He could smell the forthcoming storm and was glad. It could make sleep all that more pleasant, that is, if Bard managed to stick to his word about securing them a place to stay just as he promised to do before Geralt left. Sleeping during rainfall was only enjoyable with a roof overhead after all. The soiled duffle sheet started to slide off of the carcass flung over Roach's back. As he adjusted it, Geralt noticed two towns folk walking past giving him an evil, suspicious scowl. The Witcher didn't care. \- Geralt! Oh, Geralt, I'm glad you're back! - He looked up towards a familiar voice coming from behind a haycart dragged by mules. Young Bard slipped between one of grey animals up against the muted yellow wall of the house only to stop in front of Geralt, panting. Once he caught his breath, the Bard made pleading eyes. \- Please, help? - The White Wolf frowned. All it took was half a day for the Bard to get into trouble. Geralt had considered bringing up the matter of sleeping arrangements Jaskier promised him the last time they talked, but hearing angry shouts nearer, he decided to ask later. So instead, he lifted the edge of the duffle once again. \- Get in there, - he ordered as he pushed the young man's blue and red shoulder under the dusty fabric. Just in time. The moment the mule cart passed Roach, a group of two sturdy men and one dwarf entered the street. The trio stopped in their tracks and began looking around. Catching Geralt's eye, the Witcher matched their glower with one of his own, stepping slightly to side, as if to shield his prey. The dwarf spat onto ground mirroring the taller of the two, when the third man pointed towards the cart, growling under his breath. All of them stepped up that way, passing the Witcher and his load without a second glance. No one noticed a pair or legs in blue trousers sticking from under the shapeless bundle by Geralt horse's side. Geralt huffed and walked on. Only once did they turn behind another corner, he uncovered the Bard. The man blinked, his blue eyes immediately searching the street. \- Are they gone? - A grunt was Bard's only answer. Not that it discouraged him from starting a conversation on his own. It never did. \- Whew, that was close, - the Bard exclaimed cheerfully while brushing dust and horse hair off of his doublet. - You have the greatest timing, as usual. - Geralt didn't react other than raising his eyebrows. He wasn't about to scold Jaskier in the middle of a street. Or anywhere, realy. For all his youth, he was a grown man and Geralt had no right nor interest in correcting his behavior in any way. However his expression must have been effective, for the brunet wiggled his head in what Geralt learned to see as an apology. Funny, how much one picks up about someone after just a month or two of travelling together. \- Yeah, anyway. Why are you dragging this... - he poked a lifeless scaly limb sticking out from under the cover, - this... thing into the town? It's disgusting. - Despite the statement, the Bard poked the limb mockingly once again, then jumped back as Geralt smacked his hand. \- Touchy about your little basilisk friend, aren't you? - \- It's a wyvern. - \- A wyvern? But didn't the mayor say basilisk? - \- As long as he pays me, it's not my problem if he can't tell one from another. - Pulling on Roach's reins he led the horse through a little square. The place was muddy and stank of piss the same way the rest of the town did. \- Good point. Hey, Geralt? - The confused Bard stopped. - Where are you going? The townhall is that way, - he pointed down the main street. The Witcher ignored him and continued through an alleyway betwee a house and what looked like a back wall of a stable. \- I have a deal with the tanner. - \- You do? When did that happen? We only arrived this morning and I could swear that I didn't see you talking to anyone but those pricks in townhall and myself. - Bard caught up with Geralt and gave him a questioning look. - Or did you happen to meet someone on your way to that beast's lair by chance? - The Witcher took a deep, weary breath. He could smell the rain already. Rain, fermented cabbage, rotting slop, and horse shit - typical smells of civilization. It took him a second to realize that the Bard was waiting for his answer. \- No. - \- Then how comes? - Geralt lifted his head towards the sky and sighed. Well, not like it was any secret, he reasoned with himself. - We have had a deal going on for a long time. - The Bard's eyes brightened. - Oh! So it's a friend of yours? Wonderful! Then by all means, lead the way! - Geralt did. Not like he had any other option, with how his traveling companion glued himself to the Witcher.

~~~~~~

As Jaskier soon learned, the tanner's workshop consisted of not one but two buildings with a spacious yard between, mostly occupied by open sheds with drying hides stretched over numerous wooden frames, a pile of wood logs heaped on the side, and a central part currently occupied by four craftsmen. Two of them were in the middle of fleshing cowhides on thick beams, while the other pair on the right was spreading thick grey paste over smaller, already finished skins. All men were humming, singing or whistling what sounded like a sea shanty. As Geralt led Roach to the side to rein her to one of woodshed posts, a stout woman in her late forties, previously hidden behind the forest of frames, walked forward to greet him. \- It has been a while, Witcher, - she smiled, crows feet around her eyes wrinkling warmly. Geralt noded, simply rumbling - Greta. - The tanner, long used to Witcher's austere ways, didn't mind his roughness and curiously eyed the horse's load instead. \- Is that the basilisk lumberjacks had the problem with up on the Triside hill? - Geralt shook his head and uncovered the beast. Despite the dull light of closing storm, its green and grey scales shone beautifully against the horse's auburn hair. The tanner circled around the mare, taking a good look. It took record-breaking ten more heartbeats for the Bard to start talking. \- Uhm... - he gave Geralt a hesitant glance, but once it was obvious the Witcher wasn't going to do the introducion, he put on a charming smile and bowed. - Good day to you and a plenty of luck to your house, m'lady. My name is Jaskier and I'm a traveling bard, at your service. - The woman looked him over as if she just noticed the young brunet standing there, then answered with a nod. - I'm Greta, a head of the leather guild in Eskalott. Nice to meet you, Jaskier. - After the Bard bowed again, she turned back to the limp lizard. - I should've known those idiots couldn't tell a wyvern from a basilisk even if they stood one next to another. A pity, truly. The thing has been terrorising The Northern reaches since spring, I knew that sooner or later one of your kind would come to deal with it and I would get my hands on what's left. The basilisk, that is. What would I give for a rare hide like that! You wouldn't believe how much people are willing to pay for a pair of shoes made from something as rare as a basilisk hide. - \- Sorry to disappoint. - \- Oh shush, Geralt. The only people I blame are those stupid woodbrains. It's not like you could transform one beast into another at will. Besides, this one isn't half bad either. Young. - She lifted the wyvern's tail and after critically inspecting its thin tip, she nodded again. - Freshly shed. Vivid colours and clearly visible pattern. - She circled Roach again to inspect its head. Beasts mouth and crown were streaked with drying blood. Jaskier grimaced when she scooped pink goop that couldn't be anything but lizards brain dripping down its forehead and snout to test its stickiness between thumb and index finger. The tanner hummed appreciatively. \- A clean kill with by a stab through the skull with no damage to the body. I always liked your work the most, not like that brute Lambert's. You should've seen those wargs he brought in last autumn. I swear I could've made a bigger piece of fur out of a baby rabbit, that's how many holes and cuts they had in them. I suppose you need the head for mayor? - \- That was our deal, yes. - \- I wonder if that idiot will order it to be thrown into a dung hole once you're gone. A waste of a good brain if you ask me. But nevermind. Hans! Stefan! - she called over her shoulder. - Get that wyvern off the Witcher's horse and chop its head off. - \- How much for it? - Geralt asked, folding the duffle sheet in half. As Hans with Stefan came closer, Roach stamped her foot grudgingly, but once she realised that the two men on her side weren't after her but to take the heavy load off of her back, she calmed down and stood patiently. \- Let's not talk about coin outside like this. It's getting late. How about collecting that reward first and then returning back for dinner? We can talk about your pay then. Besides, I have something you may find interesting, - she smirked. It sparked Geralt's curiosity, but she was right. First things first. \- I'll be back soon. - \- We! We will be back soon, - the Bard corrected and Geralt sighed. \- We. Could you take care of Roach in the meantime, please? - \- Sure thing, - Greta agreed, patting the mare. Roach lowered her ears, eyeing the woman warily. \- Uhm... Here, sir. - The young man that didn't look a day over Jaskier's age, stood at the Witcher's side to offer him the wyvern's severed head. The Bard made a sour face when he saw the grey guck slowly sliding down the monster's forehead right into its glassy eye. Before he could comment, Geral wrapped it into a thick bundle and threw the whole thing over his shoulder. After a quick nod from the Witcher and the Bard's complicated bow, they left.

~~~~~~

Geralt sighed. He should have known better after that greeting the Bard gave him the first thing after returning back to Eskalott. \- That's not a problem. - Greta dismissed the issue with a wave of her hand and took another slice of bread from the basket on the table. - You are welcome to stay here. I don't have another room to spare, but if it's not a problem, there's plenty of fresh hay in the shed you can sleep on. - \- It's fine. Thank you. - Geralt put the bowl down and stretched his legs under the table. The Bard, after that little confession he just made, had enough thoughtfulness to stay quiet and finish his own cooling portion of stew. The fact that in mere hours he was left alone, Jaskier managed to enrage some local roughnecks and also made sure they are not welcome in the town's only inn was, quite frankly, impressive, although not in a good way. So much for his vow to be the Witcher's barker. His silence however, like many good things, didn't last long. \- So, - Jaskier asked, giving the tanner a curious glance as he wiped the remaining sauce with a piece of bread, - if you don't mind me asking, how did you two get to know each other? -  
\- Oh, it happened so long ago, - she smiled, - but I still remember feeling like a child who just accidentally entered into a fairy tale. Geralt huffed, but otherwise didn't interrupt her. The Bard all but brightened up. - How so? Did he save you from a beast or something? - \- No. But he broke a curse my grandfather was under. I have heard that tale hundreds of times as a child to the point I could swear I was there myself. It was quite a story with everything a good fairy tale should have. Magic, curse, enchanted manor in the middle of woods, vampires, love... - Greta, lost in her memories for a moment, shook her head before she continued. - Anyway, I have heard about it hundreds of times and as it is with all fables, every time grandfather retold it, despite loving that story, I believed it less and less, mostly because I was growing up. You know how it goes, the bigger the children the less they believe what they are told by old wrinkly men with less teeth than fingers on one hand. - Bard chuckled. - Yeah, - he sighed - I can imagine. - \- Then you can also imagine my shock when one day he - she pointed at the Witcher stubbornly staring into his still mostly full tankard and not meeting any of their eyes, - appeared here in Eskalott. He looked exactly how grandfather described him. Tall, strong, with long white hair and cat eyes, a man you don't want to piss off, in flesh and bone himself. At that time I'd already been married for a year to my late husband, may the fool rest in peace, but I'm telling you, in that moment it felt like I was a little girl again. - \- That must have been the Destiny! - Geralt scoffed. He had his opinion on the bitch and it sure as hell didn't inspire any hope nor awe in him the way it did in the Bard. \- I remember thinking the same thing, - Greta continued. - Anyway. That was the first time I ever saw him. I was too awestruck to even say hello. The second time, about half a year later, he dragged another beast to the townhall as a proof of finishing his contract, much like today. The previous mayor, stupid shortsighed asshole as he was, ordered it to be thrown into a dung heap behind the gate, but you see, lizard skins are rare and thus more expensive than cow's hides. I was still learning about the trade from my husband at the time, but even then I knew it would be a waste. What was it back then again? I forgot, it's been almost twenty years since. - \- A cockatrice. - The tanner noded. - Yeah. Anyway, when I saw that cockatrice being thrown into muck, I ran after Geralt and told him that if he kills anything like that around here again, he could drop it at ours for extra coin. And he did. My late husband didn't like it, the fact that there was a witcher coming and going, but then I told him to stop being an idiot, because thanks to him, - she pointed at Geralt, - we were, and still are to this day, the only workshop east from Mahakam that has ever had higher lizard hides in stock, something people are willing to part with good coin for. My husband stopped complaining after that. Soon, other witchers started bringing their prey too. Forktails, cockatrice, Eskel even brought a real basilisk once. Shame that your last kill turned out to be a wyvern. - \- I thought you liked it. - \- I did. And I still do. It was a lovely animal. But a basilisk is a basilisk. Nobles and rich folks are willing to pay even more for a rarity like that. Shame, realy. Stupid people who can't tell one from another, raising my hopes like that. - \- We are not complaining though, right, Geralt? The mayor payed him for a basilisk by which I mean that he didn't even try to haggle. - The Bard swallowed his last piece of bread squished into a ball with a grin. - One look at its bloody brain dripping all over his precious table and he promptly gave Geralt all the coin and sent us away, most likely so he could throw up in private. You should've seen his face, I swear, he went through all colours of the rainbow. - Greta bursted into laughter. - Serves him right, bastard. - She laughed some more, then cleared her throat, turning to the Witcher. - Now if you're both finished, let's get back to business. As I said before, I've something you may like and I'm willing to trade it for that wyvern. If you would follow me. - With those words she stood up and, lighting a lantern, she led them through the rain and dark yard into the second building. \- This, - Greta said as they entered the spacious room full of tables, barrels, and tubs, with air filled by smells of wet hide and acrid stench of dyes and other chemicals, - is our main crafts room where we finish tanning and other initial preparations and start with actual leatherwork. Follow me. - The Bard whistled and Geralt had to agree. The tanner showed them to a side room in which stood a single table and two saddle stands. Both held what seemed to Geralt to be half finished products, yet it was the armor stand in the center which drew the Witcher's eye. \- A complete cat armor, - Greta explained as she went around lighting candles on the table and on the tool shelves, - including chainmail sleeves, reinforced neck guard, and vambraces with iron studs. Light, flexible, and sturdy. - \- Where did you get it? - Geralt pulled on chest buckles noticing how they glistened in the dim candle light. They looked brand new. \- I didn't. It's been made right here, in this workshop. Naturally, we had to get the chainmail parts from a metal guild in Rivia town, but otherwise it's all our own work. - The Witcher turned around, spotting a proud and satisfied grin on the woman's face. - What do you say? - \- I'm not sure if it's a right thing to accept. - He circled around the stand, admiring the piece from all sides. \- I didn't ask you to accept it as a gift, Geralt. It's a trade. Wyvern and your old armor for this one. - \- Still... - The Bard cleared his throat, inserting himself into the conversation. - Am I missing something? - \- No, not really, - Greta answered with a huff. - Geralt just entered his "I am not worthy of this" state of mind like usual. - The Bard spat in amusement and was immediately met with the Witcher's cold stare. \- It's a cat armor. - \- Yeah, I heard that already. Not like it explains anything. So, despite hating having to do so, I will repeat myself. Am I missing something? - \- The School of the Cat, - started Greta, - has been another witcher school similar to Geralt's own Wolves. From what I read about them in the book, their fighting style has been more about agility and less about strength, among other things. They used to be friendly with Wolves until something happened and they all've been wiped out, so it's not like... - \- You mentioned a book? - Geralt looked up from the shoulder guards he'd been studying. \- Yes, this, - she walked past Jaskier and picked a thin volume from the shelf with a candleholder. - Found it over a month ago in a bookstore in Rivia. - Tanner put it down on the table and opened it on a bookmarked page. There were two hand drawn illustrations of armor similar to the one on the stand, surrounded by smaller sketches of finer details. Greta turned a few pages, revealing various notes and entries, often scratched, sometimes with ink spots and spills. - It's a journal of sorts, mostly about cat school, but there are some entries on bears too. It caught my attention, especially those pictures, - she returned back to marked pages. - I knew that sooner or later one of you guys would stop by so I figured I could put one together and we could make a trade. Besides, crafting a witcher armor is so much more fun than doing yet another boring saddle. - \- Hm. - \- So about those cat witchers... - \- I will take it. - \- Great! Then we have a deal. - \- The cat... - \- Jaskier. - \- What? - \- Let's get some sleep. - The ignored Bard sighed and wobbled his head. - No need to answer my questions, of course, - he grunted. - Has he always been like this? - he gestured after Geralt's back. \- More or less, - the tanner answered, then turned to blow the candles out.

~~~~~~~

The next day found them in the market place in Rivia. After a bit of asking around and one or two of Bard's charming smiles, Geralt ended standing in the middle of a bookstore. If what the clerk has been babbling is to be believed, the journal Greta found once belonged to an old goldsmith, same as a few other notebooks and thick volumes he was browsing through right now. \- The man was obsessed with your kind, sir, - the clerk said, dry old man with the biggest nose Geralt had seen on a human in a while. - Alas, debts are debts and they have to be settled, if not by the man himself, then by his heirs. His sons, having no use for their father's library, sold it to my humble self and here - the old man waved one shriveled hand speckled with liver spots towards books in question, - they are. - \- Excuse me, good sir, how much for this all? - The shop clerk turned towards the Bard and the two began to haggle over the price of a notebook, a bottle of ink, and a few quills. Geralt started browsing through a second pile of books. There were titles such as "The History of Northern Kingdoms", "The True Story of the Curse of the Black Sun", and also "Herbal Medicine from Blue Mountains". He put "Of Unicorns, Faeries, Wild Hunt and other Misbeliefs" aside, picked a relatively new looking book from under it, and opened it in the middle of its well preserved pages. \- Sweet Melitele's tits! - gasped the Bard, suddenly materializing himself at the Witcher's side. - Did some mischievous mage put an illusion on this fine establishment or are you really smiling? -  
Geralt stiffened, taken aback by the man's ability to sneak up on him, something the Witcher didn't consider possible when it came to his usual noisy self. - I'm not. - \- Oh, you totally did. What did you find? - \- Nothing important. - He clapped the book shut. - It was just a fleeting memory. - Geralt tried to dismiss the topic by putting the book back at the bottom of the pile, but Jaskier picked it before it got buried under other volumes. \- What, - the man skimmed through a few pages, looked at the book's front, then returned back to browsing. His frown deepened with each second passed, - and I can't stress this enough, the fuck is this? - \- Not a fan of thick books? - The Bard snorted. - You mean this? This isn't a book, it's a mental torture of the highest calibre shaped as one! - \- It's just an exotic bestiary. - \- No, it absolutely is not! The original WAS an exotic bestiary, alright, but this? - He stopped on a page with a picture of what seemed to be a large fish with a unicorn horn. - This is just a pathetic excuse of a fake. A failure. Utterly ruined by the translation! They couldn't even get the name right! "The Dawn of the Beast". - Bard made a gagging sound. - What a joke. No, I take that back actually. The original title was a joke, a nice little pun. But this, - he closed the book and gestured over it with his free hand, - this is just sad. And it's missing pages too. Where are selkies? And the nidhogg? Sweet Melitele, I can't keep looking at it anymore. - The Bard all but threw the offending volume on the bookshelf in disgust. \- You know the thing then? - \- Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. - Geralt made a point of looking directly at the Bard. - Where from? - \- What? - \- It's a rare book, - Geralt explained, curiously tilting his head. - Only other copy I know of is in Kaer Morhen's library. We had it because it was our job to learn about all beasts of the continent, including those exotic ones. But where did you read it? - For a heartbeat, the Bard held the Witcher's gaze, but then he looked to the side. Without a moment of hesitation, he started packing his recently payed for song book and writing utensils into his traveling bag. \- You are forgetting that I have studied in Oxenfurt. The university's library is quite impressive, I assure you. And between yet another heraldic catalogue and a bestiary, guess which one I found more interesting. - The Witcher huffed. The Bard had a point. If it came to choosing between studying boring details about nobles and their family crests and sneaking away with random books about monsters from The Far North, he too would opt to do the second. They left the shop and turned towards the inn to pick up Roach from its stable. As they were on the way, Bard decided to continue their previous conversation. \- The book you mentioned, back in your - he made a little wiggling gesture - witcher's castle... - \- It's a fort. - \- A fort then. Was it a translation like this one or the original Aurora Bestiaris? - \- The original. Written in old runes. - Hearing that, the edges of Bard's lips turned slightly higher. - Good. - Geralt frowned. He wondered about the meaning behind that little smile and also about why he was interested in the answer at all.


	2. Yghern

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again! So! I did some minor edits to this and also the previous chapter to fix the blocky text. I will try to remember to double enter after each paragraph from now on.
> 
> Also a minor warning. There are hallucinations, synesthesia, and a violent hunt scene in this one.

With the exception of the winter, early spring, and an occasional festival, the two of them have been traveling together for almost three years. It has been another sunny morning two days after Belleteyn when the Path took them to southern slopes of the Mahakam mountains. The Bard was more than happy to stop in the mostly dwarven settlement. While he was fusing about the state of his shoes as one does when they decide to travel around the continent in a pair suited more for dance halls than for rocky roads, Geralt listened to young dwarven woman.

\- Ever since, folks started disappearin' in those parts, - she said, squeezing the hem of her apron nervously. - So, they say that, ya kno', that it must have been a dragon that's after our gold, or so. -

Geralt highly doubted it. Dragons were about the last item on the list of usual things causing troubles to people. - Did anyone try to do anything about it? -

\- Aye. Yarpen's company went 'ere, searched woods and the hillside. They said it wasn't bandits, that they didn't find other tracks than those of the herb hag and her helper that went missin' 'bout a week ago. Then they said they have better things ta do than prat around with mouflons and left. So, it must've been a dragon. Or something. So, I thought, since ya're a witcha... - she left the sentence unfinished.

\- I will talk to your alderman. -

The woman nodded and led them up the steep street winding around cliffs and houses half built half carved into the hostile terrain. After a while, she stopped, pointing towards stairs cut into the rock. When Jaskier, still trying to catch his breath after scaling the road itself, looked them up, he whined pathetically.

\- Seriously? -

The girl gave him a misbelieving look of someone who grew up on a mountain slope and couldn't at all understand why something as simple as walking around made outsiders that exhausted. Geralt raised his eyebrows in amusement. After tying Roach's reins to the bottom of the railing, he stepped up the stairway. The Bard groaned, but followed.

Well, though Geralt, at least he stopped talking for once.

~~~~

\- Hey, witcha, ya see anything? -

\- No. -

Two dwarves glanced over the hillside overgrown with shrubs and far between pines twisted into fantastic shapes.

\- We should get back, - said the dwarf with beads braided into his thick ginger beard. - The wind is changin' and it's gettin' late. I don't know 'bout ya, but I don't wanna get caught in a storm. -

The second shorter dwarf nodded in agreement.

Geralt scented the air. It didn't smell like rain but this close to mountains one could never be sure.

\- Besides, - remarked the ginger, - I don't think they came all this way up. We are way too far from meadows, 's nothing but heath and savin, no herbs or weed or what do I know what they went ta pick, old crones. Hey... Hey, witcha! Where're ya goin'? -

Geralt sniffed some more, then strode against the wind. Now that it changed its direction, it was carrying intense smell of old wood and decay. Following it, the White Wolf found himself at the edge of a hidden ravine. The Witcher's nostrils flared again. He cursed.

\- What is it? - asked the shorter dwarf as the ginger frowned over the gorge.

\- Smells like shrooms. Ya think they came all da way 'ere ta pick some? -

\- No. -

The White Wolf squatted at the very brim of the precipice. The bottom of the ravine was full of fallen trees and other debris, dead branches and splinted trunks sticking all over the place as far as the eye could see. There was no movement, but that alone didn't mean anything.

\- But ygherns prefer shady and damp places like this to wait until the nightfall when they leave to hunt. -

\- Whatsan yghern? -

The Witcher stood up, giving a short glance to Mahakam summits bathing in the golden light of the late afternoon. - An insectoid. It looks like a ten feet long centipede. -

The ginger shuddered and reached for the shaft of the battle ax hanging on his belt, the fear clearly showing in his posture. - Then we should really go. -

~~~~~~

\- Come on Geralt, give me some details! -

\- Why? -

Jaskier threw his hands out in frustration, then sat onto the bed with a bounce. The Witcher, a square of wool in one and the shoulder guard in the other hand, continued oiling his armor.

\- Why, he asks. - Giving an exasperated sigh, the Bard collapsed against soft linens. - So I can turn it into a song of course! Now come on, - he sat up, - use that pretty head of yours and tell me how the place looked like! -

\- There were trees. - The Witcher frowned over a small hole in the leather left behind a missing stud. He wondered when it happened and why he didn't notice it sooner.

\- I guessed so much since they are everywhere. Details, Geralt, details! Was there any particularly unusual tree? A rock? A passing unicorn perhaps? Anything? -

\- There's this ravine. It smelled of rotting wood. Looks like an avalanche pushed a bunch of trees down there a while ago. -

\- See? You can do it if you want to! Thank you. By the way, feel free to continue. -

Geralt wiped his hands, finished. When he noticed the Bard's encouraging stare, he rolled his eyes.

\- I think it may be an yghern, possibly a nest since it's that time of the year. -

\- And? -

\- And I will go there at nightfall, find and destroy its eggs while the mother is on hunt, then finish her too when she returns in the morning. -

\- That sounds like a plan! -

\- You are not coming. -

\- Oh, trust me, my friend, I wasn't even thinking about it. -

Geralt frowned sceptically.

\- What? I'm not lying! It's just... - the brunet straightened his sleeves, fingers twitching uneasily, - Bugs. I'm not a big fan, no. -

\- You never complained before. -

\- There's a difference between a vermin barely the size of my thumb casually crawling around our camp and a nightmare thrice as long as I am tall trying to eat my face, - the Bard rambled, his voice raised a pitch.

\- They don't grow that big, - Geralt corrected him.

The Bard just quivered, his face twisted into a grimace.

\- I have had the pleasure of getting acquainted with a representative of the species back when my statement still held true and I'm not planning on repeating that experience anytime soon, just so you know. Now, do you have anything more you would like to add regarding your little expedition? -

Geralt hmmed. The Bard pointed a finger at him as if to start nagging, but then he changed his mind, sighed, and stood up.

\- I had the feeling you would say that. Well! Since that's the case, I'm going to excuse myself. There is a place for me to be to be and folks to entertain. - Jaskier picked up his lute. After giving its strings a test strike and nodding the Witcher goodbye, he promptly left for the tavern's hall.

Soon, the cacophony of voices from downstairs was replaced by a familiar melody sung by a bright tenor. Geralt listened to Bard's songs mixed with clapping and laughter for a while, but no matter how loud they got, he couldn't stop thinking about Jaskiers earlier words. Just how does it happens that a child of a noble gets face to face with a giant centipede? He had a feeling that, whatever the reason, his typically chatty companion was keeping one hell of a story to himself. Or not. Knowing the bard, it was quite possible, that half of it was absurdly exaggerated and the other half completely made up. Geralt huffed, sure that that was the case. Still, him staying behind without arguing made the Witcher's job all that easier, so he wasn't about to start complaining.

Geralt hummed, undressed his outer clothes, and stretched on the bed further from doors. He fell asleep to sounds of masterfully played lute.

~~~~~~

Rocky slopes were deceptive. They cracked and crumbled under his feet and hands, sending gravel and debris to the bottom of the gorge. A pair of familiar bearded faces poked over the edge above.

\- Ya all right, witcha? -

Geralt brushed the dust off of his hair and shoulders and nodded, then gave a better look to his surroundings. Broken and twisted branches alternated with bared roots and split trunks were lying everywhere around, turning the narrow crack in the mountain side into a crowded maze of unsteady gangways and slippery beams. The rich smell of mold and rotting undergrowth made it impossible to scent anything else. It was also noticeably warmer than in the open space above.

\- Get back to the camp, - he shouted after them. - Don't let the fire die out. -

\- Aye, - answered the ginger and both dwarves left.

Geralt unclipped a vial with cat potion from the belt pocket, downed it, then drew his silver witcher sword and entered the dead tree maze. Twigs and branches snapped under his feet, boots sinking ankles deep into decayed bark and moss covering the ground. Night birds, oblivious to events to come, continued with their usual honking and hooting.

As the Witcher passed yet another ball of roots, he noticed a strange translucent shape stuck between two thick branches. After coming closer, he found a discarded and forgotten shed. He nudged it with the tip of the sword, unfurling the limp thing. An yghern that shed it must have been at least good eleven feet long. That was the bad news. The good news was that Geralt was right in his assumption and he was thus well prepared for the hunt.

A small cloud lazily carried by a cool breeze from summits blocked the moon. Geralt stopped in his tracks and listened for rustling and scraping sounds of legs. There were none. Once the moon had shown itself again, he started moving.

The time was both dragging and flying at once. It could have been as little or as much as two hours later when he found the nest. Translucent orbs about as big as a child's head were glistening in the moonlight, their pile partially obstructed by a thick canopy of rotting branches. Mother was nowhere in sight.

Geralt carefully pushed a few twigs aside, then nudged one egg with his boot. The milky substance swirled around in response. That was not good. As he remembered from Kaer Morhen's bestiaries, a movement this visible was a clear sign that eggs were too far along. If he slashed their shells open, chances were, that at least a few baby monsters would be viable enough to run away, something he couldn't allow. He had to use a different strategy.

Forming an igni sign, he set the nest on fire. Colourless eggs sizzled and popped in the heat, releasing steam in high pitched whistles as their leathery shells cracked under the pressure.

That was the moment when everything went to hell.

Maybe it was the sound of tortured eggs, maybe it was a successful hunt finished early, it didn't matter. The important thing was that the mother centipede returned from her night saunter and attacked without a warning. She snapped after the Witcher's extended hand still holding the sign. Geralt was once again grateful for armor's chainmail sleeves, currently the only reason why he still had everything under the left elbow attached to the rest of his body. Not like the squeezed flesh didn't hurt like a bitch, mind you.

Geralt growled and jabbed the monster's compound eye with the sword's pommel. The yghern hissed in pain, her antennae and mandibles twitching angrily.

The Witcher used the moment of slack to pull his abused arm out of the insectoid's jaw, then sliced after nimble organs. He missed. The sudden change of his center caused by the slash made rotten wood snap under Geralt's boot, locking him shin deep in debris and making retreat impossible. The night was getting better and better, the White Wolf thought. And if he used some truly flowery words to express his opinions about the centipede and her parentage, there wasn't anyone to hear them.

The yghern took advantage of the situation and attacked again, this time by wrapping its massive body around the Witcher. Its jaws, just barely stopped by Geralt's counter, snapped uncomfortably close to his left ear. Baring his own teeth in answer, the Witcher stopped yghern's deadly mandibles by pushing his blade against the centipede's face. The beast hissed and tried to bite through the metal, but couldn't.

Maneuvering under such conditions was impossible even for someone as skilled as the White Wolf. Geralt couldn't move, couldn't cast a sign, and he most definitely couldn't use the sword. He had to use a different fighting strategy.

Using his whole body, Geralt slammed the yghern into a tree. Pinned against the flaking bark, the centipede squeaked furiously. It wrapped its segmented body even tighter around the Witcher, trying to suffocate him.

With a fighting roar, Geralt hurled both of them onto the ground. This time he must have hurt the yghern, because it started wiggling, desperate to run away. It tried to dig itself into the soft soil, but the situation had turned against the beast. Now it was the Witcher with his significant weight preventing her from escaping.

Geralt fumbled around for the sword he lost after hitting the ground. The instance his fingers brushed against the hard metal, he kneeled up and using all the strength he could muster, he stabbed the centipede's closest segment all the way through.

That was a mistake.

Wounded beast squealed, turned around, and bit into his thigh. The man swore. He decapitated the arthropod, effectively ending the fight, but the damage was done. The cylindrical body by Geralt's feet continued with its trashing and twitching in rhythmical spasms, still refusing to acknowledge the fact that it was supposed to be dead.

One exhausted sigh later, the Witcher dropped to the ground. Using the sword's blade as a lever, he unclenched yghern's pincers. This wasn't good. Unlike his painfully pulsating but otherwise uninjured arm, Geralt's legs were not clad in any sort of protective gear. The slack's fabric didn't in the slightest prevent centipede's jaws from biting through his skin and deep into the flesh. The only good thing about the situation was that the yghern didn't find any of Witcher's bigger arteries.

Geralt could feel the flow of warm blood trickling down his skin from two deep cuts, but it was the woozy ache of venom crawling from his leg upwards which made him worry. So far, he had only read about effects of the yghern venom, but he was more than aware that he was in for one hell of a ride and there was almost nothing he could do to stop it from happening.

First hallucinations started even before he managed to unclip the vial with white honey potion from his belt. Night sounds turned into obscure whispers crawled up Geralt's back, stabbing his skull with ice cold needles as each gulp of swallowed liquid rumbled down his throat. The potion tasted blue.

It took all of the White Wolf's rapidly disappearing willpower to get up and start staggering back towards the camp. The world was swirling with shapes and tastes, owls sounded like a rising bread. And of course, there was the pain. Crawling acrid through his veins, knotting in Geralt's fingertips and knees, pulling behind his eyeballs, muddy brown and sticky like a burned oil, pulsating and stabbing everywhere.

The time and space didn't matter anymore. One moment he was at the bottom of the gorge, the next he was standing at the edge of a campside. Two wiggling giants danced towards him, sun rays shining through their hair and setting them on fire. One of them was shrinking rapidly as he talked, but his words were too fast for Geralt to register anything but the fact that they sounded like a question. Something must have happened, because unexpectedly, Geralt's left arm started to feel lighter and lighter. It made the Witcher worry that it would take off like a bird and he would never see it ever again, but when he took a look to check what kind of fledgling it turned into, all he saw was a tiny giant taking a weird bug's head from his own shaking hand. Its pitch black eyes looked familiar.

The bug blinked and started to spin. No, the Witcher realized, it wasn't just the bug. Everything was spinning.

He started laughing maniacally, inside of his brain tasting like glass shards and vomit.

Then there was only silence.

The ground was hard and cold and entirely way too close.

~~~~~~

When he came to himself, dozens of hands were touching him everywhere at once, dragging him down down down... covering his mind with layers and layers of silky fog. A dog howled somewhere, shadows flying around Geralt's head were making him dizzy. There was no up or down. He was floating at the cloud that smelled like mushrooms, ale, and blood. So much blood. The Witcher was laying in a puddle of blood, bathed in it, drowned, exactly as he had always expected his last moments would be like. He wasn't scared, but he would greatly appreciate, if it didn't hurt so much nor drag for so long.

Geralt felt tiny birds jumping all over his leg, nipping at the white hot wounds with their sharp beaks. He tried to shake them off, but birds were persistent. Some of them were singing, but their chirping sounded strange, less like tweets and peeps and more like a human language. Not that Geralt understood what they were saying. He was too distracted by making sure he wouldn't breath blood red butterflies flickering in front of his eyes into his lungs on an accident. He dreaded finding out what would happen should he fail this task.

Butterflies turned into orange and pink sparks. Nothing made sense.

An eternity later, a human-bird chirping turned lonesome as only one voice continued with the song. It still didn't make much sense, but now that there was only one source of the noise, it was easier to focus on. Something at the back of Geralt's consciousness was urging him to concentrate. He didn't know why it was important but he tried. He tried to reach for something to grab on, for something real.

\- I'm here, - sang the bird named after a small thing Geralt wasn't able to recall clearly. He was sure it had something to do with a yellow colour though. He tried to say so, but he couldn't since he forgot how to talk.

Bird's feet, bigger and warmer than they had any right to be, gently squeezed his fumbling fingers, then pushed against his shoulder. Geralt still had no sense of direction, not realy, but under the bird's touch, he felt the world shift. Or maybe not. Maybe it was the Witcher who was shifting and the world was only there to catch him before he fell.

The fog thickened, bringing a new wave of the fear and panic.

Something cold and damp landed where his forehead used to be, chasing burning sparks away with diluted smell of vinegar. It was the best feeling ever. When a similar thing happened to his wrists and ankles, Geralt was in a bliss.

The yellow bird continued singing. Geralt didn't understand much, only a word here and there, but even that was enough to keep shadowy wraiths of pain away. There must have been some kind of magic at work, because with every chirp, shapes and ghosts plaguing his mind were turning into something else, something better.

Snow, yellow sang. Snow and ice and night skies overhead. Ravens and white foxes, spruce and larch, black and white, stars and so many many more stars with green and violet ribbons of polar lights slowly twisting and fading above it all.

Geralt dreamed.

~~~~~~

Next time he woke up, the White Wolf felt like that morning decades ago back in Kaer Morhen when Lambert, Eskel, and he downed two bottles of white swallow in one sitting. The world was spinning and every sound was way too much. Geralt felt blood buzzing through his veins, spreading dull ache into every bone and muscle. He wanted to puke and if smashing his head against the wall would stop that thunder rumbling around in his skull, he would gladly do it. But he was alive unlike that yghern from the ravine and that was all that mattered.

As he moved to assess his surroundings, a piece of cloth faintly smelling of herbs and vinegar slipped down over his eyes and nose. When the Witcher reached to remove it, he noticed a similar dried compress was stuck to his wrist.

Geralt closed his eyes remembering some of those hazy half-dreams half-memories from last night and groaned. Well, that venom sure was one hell of a ride.

The sound woke the man slumped over the edge of the table. The Bard jerked up, knocking into the bowl in front of him, spilling some of the smelly liquid, undoubtedly the solution used for compresses from last night.

\- Geralt! - he exclaimed, then stretched with a grimace and a moan. His shoulder snapped loudly. Sleeping in that position must have been anything but comfortable.

\- Jaskier... - answered the Witcher, fumbling with the hardened cloth and getting slightly frustrated with his clumsiness. Geralt's muscles were refusing to cooperate and they would most likely continue to do so for a while.

\- How do you feel? -

\- I had worse. -

The Bard chuckled humorlessly then kneeled by the bed, giving Geralt a once-over. Seemingly satisfied with his findings, he smiled. - I have to admit, you scared me for a while there. I have it on a good authority that your heart stopped at least once. -

The White wolf sighed. - I will live. -

\- Good to hear that. Here. - The Bard reached behind himself and retrieved a clay cup from the table.

Geralt squinted at it. His pupils, still dilated from remaining toxins, made it uncomfortable to look at things, especially in the bright daylight. Jaskier must have had read his expression wrong because he rolled his eyes.

\- Don't worry, it's just water, not a poison. -

\- I'm not. -

\- Need help? -

\- No. -

Despite shaky hands, Geralt managed to drink the whole thing without spilling.

Once he was done and the cup returned back onto the table, Jaskier gave him a pat on the shoulder and let him rest. Having nothing better to do to pass the time, the Bard sat back onto his chair and started to tune strings of his elven lute.  
Lulled by soft notes and Jaskier's familiar humming, Geralt was beginning to drowse.

As the brunet plucked and stroked the delicate instrument, one memory made it to the forefront of the Witcher's mind. A strange melody, simple and repetitive to the point of being almost boring, matched with similarly peculiar lyrics in a language he never heard before. Geralt remembered hearing it amidst the delirium caused by the yghern's venom, although he wasn't sure how much of it was real and how much was just his brain's reaction to the toxin. Still. He could have sworn it was Jaskier singing it. He could have been wrong but if not, Geralt wondered where the Bard learned it.

He fell asleep before he could ask.

~~~~~~

The next day, the pair left the village. In about two weeks time there was a festival in Ellander Jaskier wanted to attend and since on the Path every road was as good as any other, Geralt didn't object to the direction of travel. The toxin was gone and his newest stitches were healing nicely, same as the big bruise on his left forearm. Even the weather was nice. If there was any reason for the Witcher to act cranky, it was the second tiny hole in his cat armor. Since he had the coin now, Geralt told himself, he will get those missing studs fixed.


	3. Endrega

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The plot thickens. Enjoy some light angst!

The youngster led them past the old mine. The clatter of Roach's hooves changed into a dampened stomping as the well used rocky road turned into a dirt trail. Sides of soon to be new road had already been cleared of bushes and trees, even the undergrowth had been mown and heavily sprinkled with a mixture of ash and lime to prevent its further growth. If there were no pest problem, workers and prisoners from Ghelibol would already be hauling carts of Kestrel's famous rosy granite back into the town.

Walking in front of Geralt, Jaskier has been chatting with the man. The lad wasn't much of a tattler, but the Bard had a gift of speech the Witcher learned to not underestimate. And so it happened, that during their short track, Jaskier managed to pull every useful word out of the youngster and then some. From what the alderman had told him back in the town, Geralt was pretty sure he knew what this job was going to be like, but it was still nice to hear all of that from another person's perspective. After all, there was nothing like too much information in the witcher's profession, only too little.

However, that part of the conversation was already done and forgotten. The current topic was the man's upcoming wedding. Somewhere at the beggining, Geralt missed the lad's name and it have not been mentioned since, but he was sure about his future wife's. Every time the guide mentioned her, his face brightened up a bit. Alicja was, in Bard's own words, already the center of the man's universe.

Geralt tuned their voices out in order to pay attention to their surroundings.

It was in the middle of spring, the majority of trees already covered in healthy green foliage. He could smell the faint sweetness of blooming blackthorns hiding somewhere nearby. The area, despite the lack of human activity, was full of life. Birds were chirping, the wild game rustled through the thick undergrowth of young tree saplings and fern, sounds of busy woodpeckers echoed from the crag on their right.

\- That's the new mine, - the guide pointed towards rocks with a hint of fear. - Just cross that stream behind the turn and you will be there. Now if you don't mind... -

\- You can leave. -

Not caring about the youngster's further presence, Geralt searched the innocently looking trail for signs of danger. There were none.

The youngster didn't hesitate and hastily walked past the Witcher towards the safety of Ghelibol's city walls.

\- Don't forget to pass my hello and the wish of all the best to your lovely Alicja, Wiktor! - shouted Jaskier after the leaving man before he turned towards the Witcher. - Time to get to the business. -

Geralt dismounting the mare.

\- Stay with Roach. -

\- Oh, come on, not again! - whined the Bard as he was given her reins. Geralt began his short walk to the mine.

\- How am I supposed to describe your heroic battle against a whole nest of these spiders from hell if I have never seen neither the fight, nor those creatures themselves? -

\- You can check on them once they are dead. - The Witcher pulled on the sword sheath's strap, then set the bukle one hole tighter. - Besides, you not seeing me during the hunt have never stopped you from making things up. -

The road took a lazy turn. In front of them waited a pile of timber, the material for the future bridge. The brook itself bubbled a bit further. The stream with a barely started construction was the main reason why Ghelibol's city council hired a witcher. It turns out that having three master carpenters and about a dozen of their helpers massacred shortly one after another doesn't work well with neither the carpenter guild nor the local economy and is thus well worth spending some of town's coin on a professional pest exterminator.

\- You know, there's only so many times I can use words like mighty, masterful, and fearless before it gets boring. I need to see some real action once in a while to inspire me! - whined the Bard.

The Witcher stopped in his track, then turned with a frown.

\- I think I told you to stay back. -

Jaskier blinked innocently.

\- No, you didn't. You said to stay with Roach and I am with her. - He lifted the leather band connected to the horse's halter as a proof. - There wasn't a word about us not being allowed to follow. -

The mare perked her ears as if to support his point.

Geralt wanted to be angry, he really did. All he felt was a resignation.

\- Fine, - he sighed. Jaskier's eyes sparkled with excitement. - But don't get beyond that stream. Endregas hate water, you should be safe if you stay at the other side. -

\- Of course! - the Bard answered enthusiastically.

~~~~~~

There were too many of them. Geralt didn't understand how such a big nest could have remained undetected until now. Either the local forest was so full of wild game endregas never needed to leave their small hunting territory in search of food before, encountering people in the process, or the direct opposite - a lack prey forced them closer to civilisation. Right now, the Witcher didn't care about the reason because _right now_ he was fully engaged in the combat.

Endregas hissed and rattled with their pincers everywhere around him, lifting their front legs to make themselves look bigger before every charge. Under any other circumstances it would give Geralt enough time to attack first, but as it was, for every three monsters trying to intimidate him with their flashy underbelly, two were already attacking. The ground was slippery from insectoid's green blood. Severed legs, tails and bigger chunks of already dead beasts made moving around difficult.

The Witcher was focused, fully immersed in the heat of the battle.

Slash, dodge, stab, dodge, stab, slash.

It was almost meditative in a sense that his head was emptied of any thoughts other than reactions to the situation right here, right now.

Another endrega fell, missing the most of its legs on one side. The insectoid was trashing and grasping around with its remaining limbs, but it was essentially harmless.

A loud scream pulled Geralt out of his blank state, the distraction almost costing him his head. With a roar, the Witcher plunged the silver sword into the endrega's open mouth, then, yanking the handle up using both hands, split its head in half. Two more beasts jumped after him, one snapping after Geralt's knee, the other trying to stab his back with the tip of its sharp front leg.

\- Geralt! Geralt, help! - shouted the Bard from bushes, galloping on Roach to the clearing under the rocky ledge.

\- I'm busy! - roared the Witcher, kicking into the compound eye and slashing after the attacking limb.

The mare neighed.

At the edge of his field of vision, Geralt saw Roach standing on her hind legs and an endrega swinging its tail under her flying hooves. Jaskier fell down with a yelp, hugging his lute case. As usual, the idiot has been more concerned about the state of his music instrument than about his own life.

Swearing, the Witcher pushed two closest beasts away with an aard sign, but before he could reach Jaskier, another person entered the battle.

Hanging almost horizontally from the black horse's saddle, the young woman slashed after the monster preparing to jump at the Bard. Without slowing the galloping mare down, she dismounted with a pirouette and using the momentum, she finished the endrega by slicing its side open. Drops of green blood flew all the way to Jaskier's hunched form.

With half a dozen of remaining beasts surrounding him, Geralt didn't have much time to feel amazed.

Three endregas attacked at once.

Dodge, stab, dodge, slash, stab.

Monsters hissed and squeaked under his blade, climbing over bodies of their dead nestmates the moment they fell.

Slash, dodge, stab.

The woman appeared by his side, severing limb after limb with a snarl. But then, after stabbing under the thick plate covering insectoid's back, her sword got stuck.

\- Duck! - shouted Geralt.

The woman reacted immediately, removing her head and torso from the Witcher's path. He turned around, ramming his own weapon deep into the chitinous shell. With a twist of the blade, endrega's segments separated from each other, releasing the shorter steel sword. The badly wounded beast hit the ground with a twitch, leaking its fluids around. Two more decapitated heads later, one by the Witcher's and one by the woman's blade, the fight was over.

Geralt didn't even get a chance to slow his breath down before she locked him in a hug.

\- I missed you so much! - exclaimed the newcomer, squeezing him even harder. Because of his armor, there wasn't any significant pressure to it, but Geralt still felt as if someone tied him up. The woman was pressing her face into his shoulder guard, her slim fingers clutching to scabbard's straps like a vice. It didn't look like she was planning on letting him go any time soon.

It was the Bard's cough that pulled Geralt out of his awkwardly frozen state. The Witcher didn't notice the man coming closer, his brain still trying to process the unexpected show of affection.

\- I told you to stay behind the stream, - he growled.

\- And I would, if that cute little crayfish, - Jaskier waved his still shaking hand towards the endrega's corpse lying further from the rest, - wasn't about to make me into its late lunch. -

\- You should have run. -

\- I did. -

\- Towards the town, you fool! What did you think I was doing here before you appeared? -

\- Frankly speaking, I wasn't really thinking. There was just this constant scream of "Oh sweet Melitele" with a bit of dread and panic as a background noise running on a loop in my head. Now, if you are quite done with the scolding, would you mind introducing me to your charming companion? I would love to give her a proper thank you for saving my life earlier. -

The woman, no, the girl, Geralt corrected himself, squeezed him once more then lifted her head to look at Jaskier. She had unusually blonde, almost ash grey hair and an ugly scar stretching from under her left eye all the way to her jaw. She was smiling.

\- Don't ask as if you don't know me, master Dandelion, - she admonished the Bard with a wide grin. - Although... No, not again! -

The girl took a step back, then gave both men thorough look. Her face, previously radiating happiness, twisted with disappointment. She bit her lip, then buried both hands into her long wavy hair. She sighed.

Jaskier seemed confused. - Did I... Did I say something? -

Geralt shrugged, then bent to get the girl's sword laying on the ground where she dropped it before the hug. Even covered by the endrega's gore he noticed it was an extraordinary weapon adorned with intricate engravings. The sword was without a doubt a masterpiece forged by best gnome bladesmiths and she sure knew how to use it. The White Wolf wondered where she learned to fight like that.

\- Who are you? - he asked, holding the weapon blade-down for her to take.

The girl slowly reached for the sword.

\- Ciri, - she spoke hesitantly. The intensity of her green eyes jumping from one detail of his face to another as if she was searching for something made the Witcher uneasy.

Jaskier clapped his hands to draw their attention to himself.

\- Well then, lady Ciri, I give you my the most sincere thanks for saving this humble Bard's life. The name is Jaskier, by the way. Alas, since I am currently traveling with my friend Geralt you are already familiar with, I'm unable to offer my neverending services to you as a proof of my gratitude. But! What would you say to a dinner in Ghelibol's famous inn At the Hobbling Goose in exchange? Despite the misleading name, their roasted pork knuckle is downright legendary! -

Geralt, who stopped paying attention to the Bard's ramble after the second sentence, shook droplets of green endrega blood off the silver sword, then sheathed it next to the steel one on his back. He nodded to the woman in acknowledgemnet.

\- You fought well, Ciri. -

\- Yes, thank you, - answered the girl with a blush and a hint of a smile.

\- Wonderful! - exclaimed the Bard, blatantly ignoring the fact that her words were not intended for him. - Then let's leave this odious guck covered place at once! All that excitement from earlier made me hungry. Although I have to admit, thanks to that heroic rescue of my humble self, I can already feel the inspiration gracing me with her presence. - He turned around and started walking back towards the stream.

Geralt hummed in an agreement. Now that the job was finished, they had no reason to linger around and Jaskier's proposal of getting some warm food wasn't a half bad idea.

The Witcher whistled for Roach and so did Ciri. Geralt's head snapped at the girl in surprise, but she only shrugged. Right, the Witcher though. It's not that unusual for people to train their horses in the same fashion he prefered. Still, something about the girl wouldn't stop bugging him. There was this strange familiarity in her motions, in the way she fought on her own as well as alongside him. In the whistle.

\- I can already hear the melody, - Jaskier continued cheerfully, fingers switching between chords on the air lute as his real one dangled in its case on his shoulder, - strong and catchy. And of course, with exciting lyrics about legs and heads flying left and right! Geysers and geysers of blood spurting across the clearing, painting the lovely rosy granite with splashes of poisonous green! -

Nearby bushes rustled, but instead of two horses Geralt expected, three came forward - chestnut Roach, Ciri's black mare, and a white saddleless stallion.

Jaskier flinched back in surprise.

\- Huh? -

The white unicorn neighed his greetings.

~~~~~~

\- Now start talking. -

The Inn At the Hobbling Goose was packed. A party of about twenty people occupied two long central tables, laughing and shouting one over another, their dissonant voices occassionally accompanied by screeching bagpipes. Every now and then, Jaskier glanced over his shoulder. Geralt knew that the Bard was itching with the need to join the celebration and should he decide to do so, the Witcher wouldn't stop him.

Jaskier stayed seated.

\- Who are you? -

\- I told you already, - sighed Ciri, scraping the last remains of cabbage juice and fat from the legendary roasted pork knuckle with a bread crust.

\- You only told us your name. Now I want to hear the rest of it. -

Geralt had to admit that Jaskier was right about the food. The Witcher wasn't even angry he had to pay for the dinner from his own, currently full, pouch. At the Hobbling Goose's kitchen was worth every coin. But not even a stuffed belly and a tankard of good ale could make him forget the issue at hand and a unicorn in the forest.

The issue snorted.

\- It's a long story and I don't feel like telling it whole right now. -

\- Then shorten it. -

\- Woah there! No need to be this hostile to a lady, Geralt! Still though, - Jaskier turned his focus to the young woman siting on the left from him, extending his ringed index finger at her. - He's got a point. Now, since the two of you are done with killing monsters and your stomachs finally stopped rumbling like a pack of feral wolves, maybe it's time you told us something about yourself. I would love to hear the tale, be it a bit abbreviated, in a _civilised manner,_ \- he emphasized.

Geralt squinted against the Bard's reproving glare, hands crossed. Not too long ago, Jaskier called this his "I'm listening, but make it quick, you worm" pose and he didn't stop making fun of it for a while. Judging from the amused glint in his eyes, Jaskier clearly remembered it too.

The Witcher exhaled sharply, detangling himself and reaching for his ale. He wasn't feeling embarrassed, no way. Not even a bit! He took a sip to hide himself behind the tankard.

\- A short version then, right? - sighed Ciri before swallowing the last squished ball of bread.

Geralt nodded.

\- I was looking for you since you are my... you are important to me. -

\- Congratulations. - He put the mug down with a slightly more force than necessary. - You found me. -

The girl shook her head. - I didn't. I came too soon and, - her eyes jumped from Geralt to Jaskier and back, - I think I got the wrong world anyway. It already happened before, although this is the first time I got to meet... you. That is, your version from the sphere I jumped into. -

This time it was Jaskier asking, the confusion clearly showing on his face.

\- Whaaat are you talking about? What version? -

The girl didn't answer right away. Instead, she bit her lip, lifting her head towards dark, spider web covered ceiling planks, contemplating how to respond.

\- What do you know about The Conjunction of Spheres and The Spiral? -

\- Nothing? -

\- Not much, - Geralt admitted at the same time. - Only that the last time it happened, a lot of monsters found their way onto the Continent where they started killing people. Enough to give mages an excuse to create witchers to fight them so mages themselves didn't have to. -

Jaskier opened and closed his mouth as if he wanted to say something and then decided not to. Ciri gave him a questioning look, but didn't comment on it.

\- That's what happens when worlds get too close to each other, yes, - she said instead. - Random portals opening and closing naturally, sending everything in the area into the mirror location in another world. That's what the Spiral means, that connection, the path across spheres, based on the similarity between places. You see, things are, - she gestured vaguely, - same, but different. Paralleles. Unique variations of the same thing. If you know how, you can use that likeness as an anchor to jump through the Spiral from one sphere into another even if they are not currently connected by a Conjunction. At first, I was using Tarn Mira. That's a lake in Nilfgaard, - she added when she noticed Jaskier's uncertain look, - but soon I realized it was a bad idea. For one, no matter the world, all versions of that lake looked the same. Well, mostly. It was impossible to know which world I got into without leaving the place and having a look around. Then I thought, that maybe it would be a good idea to anchor not onto a place, but onto a person instead. - She looked at Geralt longingly.

\- Him! You anchored on him! - exclaimed the Bard, as if he had finally found a solution to a challenging problem.

Ciri noded, then leaned on her elbows, staring a sad hole into her empty dish.

\- Yes. But I should have realized that just like there are many versions of the same lake, there are also many versions of the same person. -

After a moment of silence, Geralt too leaned forward. Then, when the girl looked up at him, he said: - I don't believe you a single word. -

\- What? - Ciri stared at him incredulously. - I'm not lying! -

\- Neither you are telling the truth. What you are saying, portaling someone not between different places but between different spheres, that sort of thing requires a lot of magic. I didn't notice a single mage following you around. And I doubt it would be a possible feat for just a single person anyway. -

\- Well, maybe it's not a gaggle of mages, but she DID came with a unicorn, if you remember, - Jaskier pointed out. - Personally, just because of that alone, I would believe anything she says. -

\- It wasn't real. Just a white horse with a minor illusion. All unicorns had died out decades ago. Everyone agrees on that, even witchers. -

\- They didn't. They just got tired of people hunting them for their horns, so they jumped through the Spiral into a different world. -

\- That's what you say. -

\- I'm not lying! Just... - she groaned in frustration, then perked up. - Ask Yennefer then! She will tell you I'm telling the truth! -

The Witcher frowned.

\- Who's Yennefer? -

Ciri sagged against the table, groaning once again.

\- I'm that much back, huh? -

The Witcher was running out of patience.

\- What are you talking about now? -

He was back to his I'm-listening-but-make-it-quick-you-worm pose. Nothing about this girl's story made any sense. Or more like, it would if it didn't lack one fundamental element. The Chaos. Ciri, if that even was her real name, didn't smell of any. There was no lingering scent of ozone, no deep set aroma of herbs and infusions, no traces of smoke or ash. The medallion had been still too so she didn't carry any amulets or crystals either. Sure, if her claim about unicorns was true, that supposedly legendary beast waiting back in the forest could be the missing link. But. It was too fantastic. If there was one thing Geralt knew better than anyone, it was that every complicated situation was ususally caused by a simple reason. And the more cumbersome the issue, the shorter the explanation. Meanwhile, her story was neither simple nor short.

\- You see, when you travel between spheres, - she mumbled, still leaning on the table, - time and space are sort of one and the same. And since you can jump into any place at any moment, they lose their meaning. When you are in the middle of the Spiral, everything everywhere happens at the same time. It's hard to find your way through all that which is why Ihuarraquax, the unicorn, says that anchoring onto something is important. If you jump without an anchor, you could find yourself at some totally random place and time. I'm still learning how to do all that. I managed to jump to you, kind of, which is a good thing I guess, but I didn't find the right you and I got further back in time than I expected. You didn't even meet with Yennefer yet. Now I understand why Red Riders use a bunch of navigators at the same time. -

\- Who are red riders? - asked Jaskier.

Ciri sat up, shrugging her shoulder a bit.

\- Elves that call themselves Aen Elle. You know them as The Wild Hunt. -

The party roared in laughter after one of the men fell from the chair he was sitting on. The innkeeper walked around the downed youngster as if nothing happened and put ordered pitchers of ale onto the table. Two pairs of hands picked the still giggling man up. The merry atmosphere of their group was in deep contrast with the silence between Jaskier, Ciri, and Geralt.

The Witcher finished his drink. The girl was spinning one tale after another like a trickster spins his pranks, patching lies with half truths and dreams with fantasy to cover all holes and hickups in his story with new amazing twists in order to keep the audience entertained. The Bard was digging her every word with the intensity of an old rag sucking spilled water, but in his case it was understandable. Listening to stories, regardless of their authenticity, and turning them into songs and poems was his profession and his passion both. But Geralt himself wasn't such a man. There were only so many delusions he was able to tolerate in one day.

\- This is bullshit. -

\- You still don't believe me? -

\- I believe you even less than I did when you slashed that endrega open. -

Geralt leaned against the wall and closed his eyes. Maybe if he meditated for at least half an hour, it would make him less iritated than he was at the moment. Even better, if he managed to doze for a bit, he could pretend this whole conversation was just a confusing dream.

\- Oh, I know! - exclaimed Jaskier, smacking the table with a palm. - How about this? Geralt doesn't believe you because... Well, because he's like that. But you want him to believe, right, Ciri? - The girl blinked at the Bard hesitantly.

\- Yes...? -

\- I take it that you don't have any physical proof that you are coming from a whole different world, do you? -

\- Not any I can think of. I only have my clothes and the sword. -

Geralt huffed. She was right, those were no proof of anything.

\- Great! Well, not great, obviously, - the Bard wobbled his head, - but! From the hug and from what you have said at the beggining I gather that Geralt is someone especially important to you and that you have known him for a while back in your... sphere? World? Whatever. And that he and, well... he are sort of one and the same man, right? -

\- Yeah...? -

\- Wonderful! Then how about this. You tell us something about Geralt no one else knows but him, and maybe then he will finally admit he's an idiot and that you are the most truthful and the most fascinating person in this establishment, no, scratch that, in this entire world. How about that? -

The Witcher snorted but didn't care to open his eyes. Even without the sight he noticed the change in the young woman. She sat up, clothes rustling, chair creaking. Hopeful.

\- Let me think. Hm... - a hint of a smile could be heard in her voice. - He hates the monicker Butcher of Blaviken. -

Geralt's frown deepened, his eyes still closed. - That's not a secret, - he growled as Jaskier huffed with the suppressed laughter.

\- You enjoy ridiculously long hot baths. -

\- A lucky guess. -

\- You broke your leg on the Track a year before your trials started. -

Geralt's eyes snapped open.

\- How do you know about that? -

\- Vesemir told me after I almost broke mine at the same place, - Ciri answered with a triumphant smirk.

\- You were trained in Kaer Morhen? -

\- Yes. Now do you finally believe me? -

Simple explanations, Geralt reminded himself. Simple explanations and physical proofs are always better than flowery words and empty promises. That's what Vesemir tried to beat into his student's heads time and again. To make them remember to never jump to any conclusions before being absolutely sure things are what they seem to be.

\- Show me your medallion, - he said grumpily.

Ciri stared back at him. He had to admit, the girl had guts. Not many people could withstand a witcher's glare without a flinch and even less of them could parry it with their own.

\- I don't have one, - she said in a cold voice. - I had to leave before finishing my training. -

Geralt hmmed and once again leaned back against the wall.

\- How convenient. -

\- How convenient he says! - shouted Ciri. She stood up, slamming her hands in anger. - As if I wanted to be on the run for the past four years! As if I wanted all of my remaining family and friends to be slayed by Nilfgaardian soldiers in their stupid war! As if I wanted to be chased across the Spiral through all these spheres, constantly escaping the imprisonment! As if I wanted to be seen as nothing more than a womb on legs, a gene donor for some twisted breeding program! -

Geralt's medallion started to vibrate, reacting to the Chaos summoned by her trembling rage. The celebration went silent, all inn's guests listening to the girl's furious hollering.

\- No, I conveniently DON'T have any FUCKING witcher medallion! There! Are you happy now? Eat SHIT, Geralt! - She pushed herself off the table, clearly intending to leave the inn, but couldn't. Loud or not, celebrating patrons were blocking the whole room.

At that moment, several things happened at the same time.

The innkeeper reached forth as if to stop the girl from causing troubles. Geralt's medallion jerked. Ciri clenched her fists and roared from rage and frustration. A heartbeat later she disappeared in a sparkling blue dust only to instantly rematerialize at the other side of the inn.

She slipped past two surprised women and just like that, she was gone.

\- That, - the Bard pointed towards the door Ciri just left through, - could have gone better. And did she just casually portaled herself across the room? It's what I call leaving with style. -

\- It wasn't a portal magic, - Geralt answered already on the go.

~~~~~~

He found Ciri in the stable, her beautiful black mare already saddled. The girl sniffed. She stubbornly refused to show the Witcher her face, pretending to be checking Kelpie's reins with her back to him. Geralt came here to apologise, but didn't know how to start.

Ciri was faster.

\- What do you want? - she asked, swiping across her face with the sleeve.

\- I didn't mean to make you cry, - Geralt answered, already kicking himself for both doing exactly that and also for pointing it out so blatantly.

Ciri sniffed in defiance. - I'm not. -

The silence stretched awkwardly. From the box neighbouring with Kelpie's, Geralt noticed Roach giving him a stare. He took a deep breath.

\- Look. It's just... -

She interrupted him. - This was a mistake. I should have jumped away back in the forest the moment I realized that you are not my Geralt. -

\- I was acting like an idiot, - he admitted.

Ciri turned around and Geralt was hit with a sudden realization. She was at that awkward stage between being a child and a woman where the majority of people spend their time fooling around with other youth and dreaming about the big world, not by killing endregas in the middle of nowhere, or by trying to convince random witchers about the possibility of a sphere travel. She had eyes of someone who saw too much too soon, eyes tired of shedding too many tears in too short a time. Geralt wondered how she got her scar and, if wherever she came from they truly were as close as she made it sound, why his other self didn't prevent it from happening in the first place.

\- I didn't mean to make you angry. -

Ciri chuckled sadly.

\- Oh yes, you did. But it's fine. - Head bowed, she fidgeted with the scabbard strap across her chest. The handle of the sword poked over her shoulder in the witcher fashion. - Even in my own world you didn't trust people easily. You may look and act a bit different than I remember, but that much hasn't changed. You are still you in a way. -

The Witcher hummed in an answer, remembering her words from before. Different, but same indeed.

Ciri led her horse to the spacious yard between stables and the kitchen. Seeing that she had something on her mind, Geralt walked along silently, giving her time to think. Melitele knew he needed it too.

\- Hey, - she said once in the saddle, - could you promise me one thing? -

\- What is it? - the Witcher looked up, determined to fulfil this strange girl's wish if it was within his powers.

\- When we meet again, me from this world, from this time. Don't leave me behind. -

Geralt took a deep breath, then nodded.

\- I won't. -

Ciri smiled weakly. - Tell Jaskier that he was right about the inn. The food was delicious. -

\- I will. -

The Witcher's medallion vibrated once more and when he turned around, he saw the white unicorn trotting gracefully past the pile of stacked logs. The black mare neighed her hello.

\- Goodbye, Geralt. -

\- Goodbye, Ciri. And good luck with finding what you are looking for. -

\- Thanks, - she said, blinking new tears away.

And just like that, she turned into a glittering dust for the second time that day, taking Kelpie with her. The unicorn lingered for a moment, staring intently into Geralt's eyes, then jumped too.

The Witcher was left alone. He wondered under what circumstances they will meet the next time. He swore to himself he will do his best to be less of an asshole then.

~~~~~~

\- So to put it simply, everything she said was true. There realy is a bunch of whole different worlds out there somewhere, unicorns are actualy a thing, you love hot baths despite trying so hard to convince me otherwise, and in at least one those other worlds Cintra is in a war with Nilfgaard. Good to know. -

\- She didn't say anything about Cintra. -

\- And she didn't have to. Her accent was easy to notice and since she mentioned her family and friends... - Jaskier didn't have to finish the sentence. Geralt understood.

A flock of larks zoomed past the road, made a sharp turn around the walnut tree and disappeared in the blooming blackthorn bush. The setting sun painted clouds with brilliant shades of pink and orange, same colours as distant mountaintops on the east. It was a beautiful spring evening.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just really really love Ciri and her ability to hop between worlds, ok?


End file.
